


please stay with me, kid

by spiderboyneedsahug



Series: Infinity War drabbles [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brief mention of Shuri, Brief mentions of the other Avengers - Freeform, Doctor Strange ex machina, I really wanted more feels so here you go, I watched the Infinity War trailer again and this happened. Whoops, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Temporary Character Death, christ this is my first big sad huh, dad tony, more like Peter Parker needs to not be a self-sacrificing dumbass, no beta we die like men, now i've watched Infinity War this hurts so much more wow, okay I'm not ready for Infinity War in 4 hours and 22 minutes (it's 14:38 now i'm gonna die)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:28:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderboyneedsahug/pseuds/spiderboyneedsahug
Summary: Tony looks over just a little too late to see the creature running towards him, razor sharp claws poised to kill and he already knows he’s a goner, even with the armour on. He closes his eyes and waits for the impact.It never comes.(Based on the Infinity War trailers.)





	please stay with me, kid

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one-shot from your friendly, emotionally compromised writer!
> 
> I keep watching the Infinity War trailers, so I decided to put this out before the movie while I still have creative licence. Hope you enjoy!

Tony looks over just a little too late to see the creature running towards him, razor sharp claws poised to kill and he already knows he’s a goner, even with the armour on. He closes his eyes and waits for the impact.

 

It never comes.

 

Tony opens his eyes. There’s red and blue in front of him, arms protectively splayed to the sides as if they were shielding Tony, and it takes all of three seconds for him to piece together what’s happened.

 

And in those same three seconds, the creature pulls its claws out of Peter with a sickening _squelch_ , and the kid crumples to the floor in an ungraceful heap. The creature stands above Peter’s collapsed form with its claws gleaming in red blood.

 

Tony sees red.

 

The creature never stood a chance — it dies before it hits the floor after Tony fires his strongest repulsor blast straight through its chest. He doesn’t even check to see if it’s actually dead, because he fires a second blast through it’s head with a yell.

 

The area around him is disgustingly void of any and all life signs, so he whirls around and drops to his knees where Peter lies and shakes the kids shoulders.

 

His throat clogs with grief and his eyes burn with unshed tears.

 

There’s so much _blood_. So, _so_ much blood painting the floor around Peter’s chest; sickeningly similar to the Vulture incident. Even where he is, he can hear Peter struggling to draw in every laboured breath.

 

It _hurts_.

 

Peter’s face is a terrifying pale shade of gray and his expression is contorted in a perfect depiction of torturous agony; fat tears roll down his face and his teeth are gritted from trying to choke down every whimper he obviously wants to release.

 

The world kickstarts back into motion, and the gravity of the situation crashes straight into Tony.

“Peter you idiot! You shouldn’t have- you didn’t need to- I could have… Peter… oh my god, kid…”

“I couldn’t let it kill you, Mr. Stark.” Peter chokes out, and Tony wants to cry all over again. His voice is strangled and shows no shortage of pain.

“You shouldn’t have done that, kid. You shouldn’t have done that!”

“Tony I’m sorry. _I’m sorry-”_ And now Peter’s stumbling over his apology, repeating it over and over like a twisted mantra, lips and teeth staining a ghastly red. His too-small body is flat against the ground lying open and prone.

 

He looks so small.

 

“FRIDAY, scan his injuries right now and set directions to the nearest hospital.” Tony can hardly even hear himself. The lone, desolate gusts of winds raking across the land and the kid’s tiny whimpers fill his ears. He can distantly hear FRIDAY scanning over Peter, can see the highlighted full body scan take up the entire display across the helmet. Red lights flash over the majority of where Peter’s torso is, flashing exclamation marks over the worst of the damages.

_'Boss, all of Peter’s injuries are fatal. There’s nothing anybody can do, the damage is too severe and hit too many organs for anyone to survive. I’m sorry.'_

 

The world slows down, almost to a halt as he hears FRIDAY’s words ringing in hears ears, repeating over and over almost mockingly. He can feel his breathing becoming sharp and irregular.

 

“No, no no no, FRIDAY. Scan him again and take into account his healing factor.”

_'I did, boss. There’s too much damage.'_ Even FRIDAY’s voice is sounding apologetic now. Tony’s throat closes and he clenches his fist, striking it against the ground as hard as he can.

 

Drawing in each breath gets harder and harder as time passes. FRIDAY is telling him to _calm down, you need to breathe. You’re having a panic attack and I need you to breathe_ but he can’t, he can’t breathe because his kid is on the floor and going to die and it’s _his fault for bringing Peter into this mess_.

 

Peter has stopped speaking now. A jagged spike of despair firmly lodges into Tony’s heart and he desperately reaches over, gently shaking Peter’s pale form.

 

The claw had torn straight through Peter’s Iron Spider suit. In the centre of the spider emblazoned across Peter’s chest was the injury, maybe four inches long and one inch wide.

 

Tony kneels on the ground, fingers twitching but hands unwilling to move, staring at Peter’s downed form. The kid’s hair is matted with blood and his face is clammy, drawn with pain and mouth slightly parted to make way for the anguished noises he’s making.

 

_He’s going to lose Peter_.

 

And that thought rouses him back into action. He lets Peter blindly grab his arm and exert a crushing hold, offering what little support he can to the dying child. And _Christ_ , Peter is just that. A _child_. A kid who got freaky powers and went around trying to help people selflessly. And Tony goes ahead and brings him into a war.

 

“Peter…? Can you wake up for me? Please.” Tony isn’t used to the sound of his own voice like this, scratchy and raw and filled with so much despairing pain. Peter’s eyelids flutter open, revealing the kid’s blown brown eyes. Peter visibly floats in and out of awareness, clouded eyes struggling to lock onto anything. Slowly, they rise to meet Tony’s, and he mouths his words a few times until his voice comes back.

“M’sorry.” The words are slurred and sound like they’ve come from a clogged throat. Tony doesn’t even try to stop the tears from falling anymore.

 

“No no no no no no no, Peter, no, stay with me, okay? You’ll be fine. Stay with me Pete, eyes on me. Stay with me.” His chest has never hurt so much in his life. _It should have been me_. Looking down at Peter, the kid who managed to continually cast happiness and energy into Tony’s life after the Civil War, the kid who had made him into a more mature and better person, the kid who changed him for the better, dying for Tony’s mistakes.

 

The worst part is that the kid would never blame him for it.

 

Peter’s blood is at Tony’s knees now, coating the armor with slick red. Looking at Peter’s wound… Tony has to tilt his head to the side and spit up bile.

 

He can see nearly clean through the kid. The claw had gone _straight through_ him, and the mess of blood, torn pink-crimson flesh, muscle and _oh god, is that an organ_ forces what little he has consumed in the past few days back out.

 

He shouldn’t be able to see _through_ Peter. Oh god, Peter can’t die here, away from his family and friends. Peter can’t die on the battlefield. This kid- _his_ kid deserves so much better than to die like this.

 

This can’t be happening.

 

When his mind comes back to his body, tears obscure everything in his vision except from the _red_ and he’s babbling, crying over Peter’s body that is _still_ going, still pumping blood, why can’t the kid just _let go?!_

 

Peter’s grip on his arm, the same tight grip that was going to leave bruises not unlike the scars this was leaving in Tony’s mind, faltered and slipped a few times until the weakened limb fell to the floor. Tony takes the hand again, the vice around his throat constricting agonisingly when Peter’s fingers don’t curl around his palm.

 

Tony doesn’t want his kid to die.

 

“Stay with me kid, I believe in you, I know you can pull through. Fight it, you can do it Peter,” He takes a look  at Peter’s face, Peter’s exhausted, faded face, his distant eyes and his _blood_ and he no longer cares if he dissolves into hysterics, “Please don’t go, p-please- please just hold on a little longer-”

 

He turns away from the kid and looks out for somebody, anybody on the horizon. There are only bodies, both of those _monsters_ and fallen Wakandan soldiers. Desperation wells up in his chest until he can’t take the crushing pressure anymore.

 

“SOMEBODY HELP ME! _PLEASE_! MY KID- SOMEBODY-” He doesn’t know if the comms are working anymore. He doesn’t know who’s alive.

 

He doesn’t care.

 

He lets himself sob, he lets himself cry and weep and curse and scream, because he _can’t lose Peter_. The anxious school kid, the chatty superhero, the quiet nerd. He can’t lose any of them. He can’t lose the closest thing he’ll ever have to a son.

 

He softens his hiccupping sobs when fingers gently curl around his arm. He swipes away his tears enough to be able to see, and Peter has contorted himself awkwardly to be able to hold Tony’s arm.

“It’s okay Mr. Stark. S’okay. ‘M’sorry I wasn’t better-” Peter shudders and coughs weakly, a few tears snaking down his cheeks from the movement. Tony gapes before he can regain himself.

“You’re amazing Peter. You’ve done so well, don’t talk like that. You can tell me all about everything you’ve done once you’re better, okay? I’ll stay with you the whole time,  I promise.”

 

Distantly, Tony knows his words are just to help placate his dying kid, bring some comfort to him. It’s already too late, and he has to look down at the thought. But the reassurances are working if the way Peter relaxes by increments is anything to go off of. A small, bloodied smile comes to the kid’s lips.

 

_I’ll stay with you the whole time_.

 

And he will.

 

Silence reigns supreme for a few more moments, and Tony has to quieten his small cries. He doesn’t bother to wipe the tears away anymore — there’s no point when they get replaced almost instantly.

“Tell Aunt May that I love her, and I hope she doesn’t… um. Miss, uh, miss me too much.” The way Peter stumbles so much over his words like he can’t remember them is like a punch to the gut.

“C’mon Peter, don’t do this-” _to me_.

“There’s letters. In my closet. Could you give one to May and one to Ned, Mr. Stark?” Tony dedicates it to memory and nods shakily.

“Of course I will, Peter. Yeah.”

“There’s one for you too, Mr. Stark.” Peter mumbles. Tony remembers a simpler time, a time when Peter swung around in pyjamas and was new to it all. Not… not this.

 

He’s surprised that Peter wrote him a letter. He wasn’t a friend or family, he was a mentor… Why would Peter write an emergency letter for his mentor?

 

Peter is talking.

 

“I- I knew it was… was risky, joining this w-whole superhero business. I t-thought the letters would make it… easier.” His words are slowing down, becoming slurred. A fresh wave of tears come to Tony’s eyes.

“I wrote your letter because… um… I want you to know that you’re the- um. Closest thing I’ve h-had to a dad since Ben.”

 

He clasps a hand over his mouth and shifts his jaw in an attempt to choke down this information. Peter wrote him a letter because he likened Tony to a Dad. If Peter cared enough about Tony to write a… a posthumous letter… then that must mean that he did a good job caring for Peter. His chest feels worse than it did when he got hit by the shrapnel, swathed in pain and too goddamn heavy.

 

“Kid…” His voice is wet and choked.

“You’re a p-pretty good… dad, Mr. Stark. Please don’t- Please don’t blame yourself…” Peter looks pained at the thought, and it almost makes Tony try to forgive himself. _Almost_. This is his fault.

 

Peter looks strained as his fingers twitch and release, grabbing Tony’s hand like a child would their parent’s.

“Thank you… for t-taking care of me.”

When he speaks again, his voice is just a whisper, quiet and full of everything Tony will never see his kid experience, “Thanks, d-dad,” A weak chuckle, “Larb you.”

 

Tony can’t reply immediately. His brain plays over their conversation again and again and again. Peter called Tony _dad_. Peter told Tony he was a _good_ dad, and he _loved_ him. Peter…

 

… wasn’t moving.

 

Or breathing.

 

“Peter…?” The whisper echoes like they’re boxed in.

 

Peter’s chest still doesn’t move.

 

“Kid?” Tony’s breaths turn to hitching sobs as he puts his fingers to Peter’s throat for a pulse; for anything.

 

There’s nothing to be found.

 

“PETER!” Tony’s scream echoes, reverberating through his head. He slides his fingers under Peter as gently as he can, lifting the motionless boy’s chest to his ear. Tony ignores how Peter’s head lolls backwards when his body is lifted, how both of his arms fall to the floor, useless.

 

There’s no heartbeat, and Tony’s world shatters. The rest of the world fades away as he cries. Hoarse sobs and painful yells tear their way out of his throat because Peter is _dead_ , Peter is dead and he isn’t coming back, Peter is gone _forever_. He gently lies the child back on the floor, keeping their hands interlocked.

 

He doesn’t try to stop himself when he starts rocking himself back and forth on the spot, distraughtly holding Peter’s bloody hand in his own and pressing his forehead to it.

“Come on, kid, wake up. Please. Kid- kid. Please wake up. Come back. I need you to come back to me, _please_. I can’t do this without you- You’re my kid, please wake up. Don’t leave me like this- don’t leave us like this. Peter. Peter!”

 

Peter looks so _small_. And fragile. His eyes are closed, as if he were sleeping, and his body is relaxed and he can’t see much else through the wall of tears in his eyes. He can see the red, and he can hear every word Peter has ever said to him echoing through his mind. He can’t help but pick the kid up and hold him close in a failing attempt to keep Peter’s cooling body warm. His hands run through Peter’s matted hair like he did last time the kid got sick at the New Avengers Compound-

 

He wails. Those memories are too agonisingly painful to bear right now.

 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he sees someone stood next to him, and he’s still not out of tears. His voice went long ago, so there’s no screaming, but he’s still rocking back and forth, Peter’s body still in his arms.

 

He can feel the kid’s cold, tacky blood on his clothes.

 

“Tony.” Strange.

 

He hears a gasp, and turns his head just enough to see most of the Avengers standing bloodied, beaten and bruised, but there. The Wakandan princess — Sheri? Shuri? — has her hands clasped to her mouth, tears in her eyes, and every other Avenger has various expressions of grief on their faces.

 

“Tony, you need to let go of him.” Strange doesn’t understand. Strange hasn’t lost his kid.

 

“He called me _dad_. I can’t leave him.”

 

“I’m not asking you to leave him.”

 

“I’m not leaving him. He- did this to protect me. I can’t leave him to them.” He doesn’t want to leave Peter’s body to Thanos’ forces. His body doesn't co-operate when he's pried away from the kid's body by strong, warm,  _alive_ hands. He wants to scream, to fight back and be with the kid. His body doesn't move.

 

He catches sight of a green aura in the corners of his eyes and turns. Doctor Strange’s hands are surrounded by some green variation of his usual orange-yellow symbols, and Tony can see everything moving… backwards?

 

“What?” Tony’s voice is hoarse.

“I can give you a chance, nothing more. We need you and Parker, Stark. I can only do this so many times before Thanos catches on, so make it count.” Strange’s voice is gruff, but Tony can hear sadness in it. The backwards shifting keeps on, the world blurring and-

 

It stops. Strange’s normal orange symbols return to the man, the green infinity stone set in his necklace returning to its normal state. Strange is waving his hand and fire-gold particles are forming a circular shape. Tony can see the battle happening behind the portal and watches as Strange disappears into it. Tony shakes his head and comes back to himself.

 

He's stood where he was before, Peter breaking into a sprint towards him. Determination strengthens Tony's resolve — he  _will_ protect Peter this time. He's gonna keep the kid safe and happy and  _alive_ even if it kills him.

 

The world seems to move slowly as Tony whirls around, murder on his face as he shoots the monster's face with a repulsor blast. It falls to the ground, dead, and Peter skids to a halt. They stare at each other for a few seconds, Tony's sight on where the wound would have been located on Peter's chest. The Iron Spider suit is still there, spider emblem still in tact. The gush of relief that fills his chest is overwhelming despite the raw, aching grief that still echoes in his heart. Strange may have given Tony another chance, but he wouldn't ever forget that his mistake killed his kid — he may be alive, chest contracting and relaxing with every breath, but Peter had been  _dead_ and it had been his fault.  

Tony shakes his head and stares at the fallen form of the creature. The claw that killed Peter bounces sunlight directly into his eyes, so he doesn't hesitate to incinerate it. When he's done, it's little more than a black ash attached to gnarled flesh. He can hear footsteps approaching him, soft and gentle, so he turns to face the kid as he slowly walks over to where Tony stands.

 

Peter is staring at him, incredulous. Tony walks over to the kid and quickly traps him in a crushing hug, tears building in his eyes again. He has to blink away the image of Peter on the floor, defenceless, bleeding,  _dying_ before he can see the kid for what he is: alive, breathing, and too goddamn good for this world. 

“ _Never_ do that again. Please.” It comes out as a whisper. Peter’s body is tense, confused, but his expression is quickly awash with concern at Tony’s tears. It doesn't stop him from hugging back though, if the way that his small hands come up to Tony's back is anything to go by. It's a struggle to keep his breaths even enough as to not rouse any suspicion from the kid, but by some miracle he manages to keep the tears and noises at bay.

“Mr. Stark?” _God_ , he’s missed his kid’s voice. Clear, stable, and definitely not bleeding to death. His pallor is healthy and even, if a little exerted, but alive. There's some part of him that's impressed when he catches sight of the criss-crossing cracks in the ground from the force Peter had exerted onto the ground when starting his death-sprint (he's going to have a word with the kid about unnecessary self-sacrifice when they get back), but it's washed away by the relief still coursing through his veins.

“I’ll tell you later. You’re staying with me.”

“Are you okay?” _No_.

“I’m gonna keep you safe Peter, I swear.” Peter still looks confused by Tony’s sudden change in attitude, but there’s no gaping wound in his chest — he shudders at the remembrance of Peter’s motionless body, tears clogging his throat again. His chest aches. 

“Okay, Mr. Stark.” It's clear from the sudden change in Peter's tone that he knows something's up, but to Tony's relief, he doesn't push it any further.

 

Peter hugs back a little tighter. Tony can feel Peter’s breaths and FRIDAY’s monitors show him that Peter is okay, no red silhouetting his frame or warning signs on his vitals.

 

He knows it’ll be in his nightmares forever, even though Strange effectively... erased that timeline?

 

He swallows back his tears again.

“Keep close, kid.” The Iron Spider mask covers Peter’s face, the eye-lenses lighting up and the same time Tony’s armour closes over him.

“Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this even though it tore out my heart :/ I'm a bit 'meh' on the ending though, but I couldn't think of a better way to draw it all together (I had 5 options; this was the best one)!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


End file.
